


A Warmth in Winter

by SilentStorms



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Angst, Blood, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Friendship, Gryffindor, Gryffindor/Slytherin Inter-House Relationships, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Eighth Year, I Don't Even Know, Insanity, Love, Love Triangles, Magic, Male-Female Friendship, Mentions of Sex, Multi, OCs - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Hogwarts, Precious Friendships, Quidditch, Rivalry, School, Slytherin, Slytherin Common Room, Squibs, Tags Are Hard, Tags May Change, Unrequited Love, Violence, Young Love, will be about my own characters but there will be mentions of original characters and feature a few
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-10-21 17:49:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20697563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentStorms/pseuds/SilentStorms
Summary: It has been several decades since the defeat of the Dark Lord. Harry Potter is still a living legend, despite his old age, and so are all his deeds and those who fought with him. But it is now time for a new era of new legends, and this is the story of what might be the beginning of a large step towards the future or a groundbreaking curse for all wizards and witches.Norah Winters is not ordinary, not at all. Thanks to her fathers last project, she is now an unstable force of power, which brings destruction to everything she touches and everything she is. Hogwarts is the school of her dreams and when the opportunity to enroll arises, she grabs that chance despite all the risks she will be facing. Shadows lurk and Norah will need allies to help her in times of need, but will her isolated heart let her gain such precious friendships?





	1. Enrollment

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to my story!  
I have never done anything like this in my life before, so I'm a little scared tbh but I also look forward to sharing what I write with yall!  
I write many stories in my spare time, including inspired ones like this (alternative universes and such) but also original works... My stories are purely made for myself to enjoy, and not many have been allowed to read them, but I feel like it might be time to try this website out. I have used it to read others’ works for many years, but I have never thought of posting my own stuff before. Not until a couple of days ago! And here we are:)  
English is not my first language and my English teacher was horrible, so I purely self-learned the language, which means that there will be some grammatical errors here and there… I try to correct my texts but I hope you can live with any errors, and if not; please help me find them so I can rewrite phrases or correct words. That would be a great help and be a great way for me to learn!  
Feel free to comment below if you have any corrections for me, or just want to chat about my story!:) 
> 
> This story was inspired by JK Rowling and all credit goes to her.

# Chapter One

_Enrollment_

I don’t remember.  
I don’t remember the sound of his voice anymore, or the feeling of warmth from his rare hugs. I don’t even remember his face that much anymore, even though I dream about him almost every night. I barely notice the gigantic portrait hanging in the northern hallway whenever I walk past it, not caring to check if that really is my father, like uncle claims it is.  
It’s a funny thing; loss. To spare myself for the constant grief from losing someone I love, my brain has almost completely washed him away from my memories. Just to turn off the sadness a smidge. It's not an uncommon thing, not at all… for traumatized children, who are too young to process the facts of life. And here I am, a nineteen-year-old woman pretending to be anything but the broken girl I truly am. I know I’m fucked up, I have always been fucked up in the head; but telling myself that is also a stupid excuse for my thoughts and behavior, because I’m not fucked up. Not really. I function normally for a woman my age with my circumstances, or so my muggle psychologist tells me when I visit her every Thursday. But she doesn’t know everything, not all of my ‘circumstances’.  
It’s been fourteen months since his disappearance and thirteen since the reappearance of his bloody pocket watch in a brown envelope with no name on it. The blue sky had been clouded the whole morning that day, never letting the sun cast its rays on my cold face. Uncle found me in the attic, gazing out into the nothingness of the grey skies through my favorite window. I tensed up when he opened the door, oh so carefully, not wanting to disturb me, like if I was some sort of wild animal he didn’t want to spook. I didn’t have to look his way, to see his sad green eyes, to know that he knew something about father. Uncle walked over to me, placing the brown envelope beside me on the windowsill and left the attic again, leaving me with my own destructive thoughts and the last thing I wanted to be confronted with. Death. But I had known deep in my bones that the day he had disappeared would be the last I ever saw of him. A woman’s intuition maybe? After what must have been at least half an hour, I had opened the envelope just a teensy bit to gaze at the content, fearing to find a finger or maybe an ear, but what I found was much worse than that.  
Okay so maybe I remember him. Or at least his death and the days I waited for him to return, but not his face. Never his face. And it drives me to madness, every night. 

No. “_No._” I say out loud, voicing the thoughts echoing in my head. No way in hell is my uncle joining me to see the headmistress, no matter how scared he is of me fucking up this meeting. Uncle Bobby looks as if I frightened him with my stern voice, and he quickly backs down, stepping away from the stairs leading up to the headmistress’ office.  
He opens and closes his mouth a couple of times as if trying to find the right thing to say but he just looks like a helpless fish and it makes me regret using such a stern voice. “I think it’s best if I do this myself.” I tell him truthfully but with a bit of sugarcoat, hoping this will make him look less startled and uncomfortable. It seems to work wonderfully as Bobby nods, understanding and accepting my decision. “Of course, you should do this yourself.” He repeats and looks at me expectantly. His weary, green eyes shine of something like worry and fright, but he smiles delicately at me, and he suddenly seems way older than what he is.  
Grey strands of hair have fallen down from his neat hairstyle and into his eyes on the way to the school, but he doesn't seem to notice that yet. We stand there looking at each others. Bobby looks tired and used up. Like a bit of butter smeared over far too much bread. He hasn’t even been my legal guardian for one and a half year so an official thing like this feels oddly out of place.  
I decide to take the initiative, setting down my large suitcase beside the stairs and slowly walking over to him with opens arms; asking for a hug. Bobby surprises me by meeting me halfway in a quick stride, embracing me fully and pressing my smaller body into his. He hugs me tightly, and I him, and we just stand there in the empty hallway, letting nothing but Bobby’s almost silent sobbing and our heartbeats break the silence. We let go after what seems like an eternity, and Bobby is walking down the hallway way before I wanted him to, but maybe that’s for the best. We aren’t parent and child after all.  
With resolve in my steps I leave my suitcase behind and walk up the stairs, stepping closer to the woman who will be the judge of my enrollment in Hogwarts. It’s the day before the train arrives with all the students from all the years and all the houses, so the whole school is empty besides the teachers, the caretaker, the game keeper, headmistress, matron and so on. I don’t spare my suitcase a second thought as I continue walking up the stairs, which are elevating me as I go, helping me reach the very top of the tower, where I meet a large wooden door.  
The stone walls around me makes every sound bounce off and echo, and it scares me to hear my own heavy breathing so clearly.  
Without lingering too long in front of the door, I knock hard against it, making my knuckles ache slightly. “Come in.” someone responds immediately, while I’m still knocking against the wood, and I press my hands against the doors and push.  
It opens with ease, swinging right open to reveal a large, circular room. The pressing heat from an unnecessarily lit fireplace, hits me like a wall. It is the 31st of August, late summer and plenty warm outside, but the owner of this office clearly thinks otherwise. “please step inside.”  
As soon as I enter the room with only a few steps, the double oaken doors slowly close behind me, taking away my escape route. The sheer normalcy of moving stairs or doors still intrigue me after so many months, but they are nothing compared to the decorations of this room. Small, old models of old planes fly around in circles under the roof along with what looks like models of planets that I know and a few that I don’t, mingling among the planes.  
Several portraits of old men and women hang around on the stone walls, apparently all dozing off or watching me with drowsy eyes. _Old people_…  
“I will be with you shortly.”  
My attention instantly snaps away from the old wizards and witches and train in on the only other _living_ person in the room. A woman in long golden wizard ropes stand over a desk further into the room, her back facing me. It seems like she is writing something on a piece of parchment in quite a hurry, based off the rapid jerks of her right hand. I let her be, not wanting to disturb her, and walk further into the circular room.  
Many of the walls in the back are covered in bookshelves from the floor to the ceiling around a slightly elevated part of the room. The elevated part seems to be the working space of the headmistress since a large desk and chair occupies most of the room in the back, and this is also where the woman is standing. Her desk appears to be covered in books, tomes and many trinkets, and on the floor, several rolls of parchment lay abandoned.  
I try to stay silent as I step towards the middle of the room, taking in the smell of old books and wet wood.  
A large, round and sturdy wooden table stands right in the middle of everything, right in front of me. Around me there are some other small desks and shelves aligning with the walls with all kinds of curious objects placed upon them. Some spin, puff smoke, bounce and hum, but the table in the very middle seems far too empty compared to everything else in here. It’s by far the largest table in the whole room and it intrigues me. The only thing on the table is a piece of yellow paper with green ink.  
“that paper is what allows you to stay here.” The woman suddenly speaks, and I see that she has turned around, facing me with all her glory. The headmistress is as intense as Bobby had described to me on the way here. Her golden robes match her golden hair to perfection as they seem to melt together, encasing her whole body in gold as her long hair reaches past her hips. Icing blue eyes swallow me whole, nailing me to the spot and I seem to have lost my voice on my way up to the office.  
The headmistress is supposed to be a seventy years old lady, but this woman doesn’t look a day over forty.  
“I am headmistress Parrish.” Her voice is hard yet very smooth and beautiful, and I want to compliment it, but her face says _‘don’t even’_, which makes me continue to shut up. She simply fills out the silence of the room by continuing talking since I’m clearly not going to speak any time soon. “miss Winters, you must know how peculiar this situation is.” Parrish starts out, circling around the large table with the paper, to stand in front of me. “and I don’t like peculiar, because peculiar means that I have very little knowledge of it and therefore I don’t know how to handle this situation, professionally.” She squints her eyes slightly. “You need to help me with that.”  
The intensity of her voice makes me gulp as she clearly commands me to do… something? “help you? How? What do you mean?” Parrish tilts her head back slightly, assessing me with her eyes from a new angle, as if that would help her answering my question. Her eyebrows furrow slightly and I’m just standing there, waiting for her to speak again.  
“yes, help.” Parrish walks around the table again, standing on the other side while facing me with the same stern face as before, eyes resting on me. “you’re a very special case. I want to open my school to you and greet you with open arms like every other student, but you’re different... unstable.” Her words cut through me with such little effort that I gulp again. Ouch, right on the spot. “but after that being said ---”, Parrish looks like she is regretting everything in her life right now and I’m considering running out of the office before she can have the pleasure of rejecting my enrollment, but she interrupts my train of thoughts. “--- I trust Bobby Winters and therefore I trust you. This paper will be our contract, just between the two of us. To keep everyone safe, including yourself, I need you to sign this piece of parchment.” The woman gestures towards the yellow paper on the wooden table in front of me and quill and ink appears out of the thin air.  
Adrenaline rushes through my veins as I pick up the quill while she explains the contract. I train my focus onto nothing but her voice just to keep myself from getting distracted by the mere idea of enrolling into the legendary school of Hogwarts. The school of my dreams. “by signing this, you’ll be accepting that the origins of you and your powers must stay hidden at all costs. You’re not to utter even a single explaining word about your ‘condition’, _am I clear?_” her aggressive undertone makes my skin crawl as she watches me closely, marking my every movement and breath, I’m sure. This woman is frighteningly intense.  
“yes, professor Parrish.” I mumble as I fidget with the feather of the pen between my fingers. She clearly doesn’t seem too convinced as she starts repeating herself: “you’re not to speak or write even a single explanation to anyone here in my school, under no circumstances whatsoever. And if you do, _this_ will let me know immediately.” She gently taps the top of the parchment with a bony white finger, forcing my attention to travel from her piercing blue gaze, to look down at the contract.  
Seconds ago, I was so ready to just write my name and then accept the consequences of that some other time, but she makes it sound so grave, which scares me. I know that people might react badly to the news of my powers, so I was prepared to keep it a secret anyway, but this is a bit more extreme than what I had imagined. “I promise not to tell, professor.” I want to swallow my words even before I finish saying them because Parrish doesn’t seem happy with just that. “your verbal promise isn’t enough; I need it on paper.”  
She turns her back on me and starts pacing back and forth right in front of me as if she’s impatient and want this to be over with just as much as I do, but out of fear that she might somehow now what I’m thinking, I shut out everything and zoom in on the little line that says _‘signature’_ at its beginning, in the very bottom of the paper.  
The sooner I’m out of here, the better. Parrish is too intense for me and it makes my stomach curl, even though she is the living miracle-maker of my dreams. What a complicated admiration I have for her...  
I tighten my grip on the quill, dip the tip into the ink bottle, which conveniently opened the lid by itself, and then write my signature with delicate letters. As soon as I finish the last swirl and lift the tip off the paper, the parchment, bottle and pen all vanish as quickly as they had appeared mere minutes ago. “good, now go down to the hallway again and you’ll find that the caretaker has brought your suitcase to your new dorm room. This---“, a golden ribbon from Parrish pocket flies out at her command and lays itself down on the table, right in front of me, “---will lead you to it. Just follow the ribbon. Should be easy enough.”  
Parrish is already on her way up to her massive desk and chair, as if dismissing me from the office, but as I reach the oaken door, I look over my shoulder and see that she has seated herself in the massive clawfooted chair behind the massive desk. She looks devastatingly beautiful in all her golden glory as she just sits there, watching me with a careful expression on her face. Our eyes meet again. Blue clashes with green. “one wrong step and we’ll have to talk again, Norah Winters. Enjoy Hogwarts and enjoy Slytherin.”


	2. The Help of a Ribbon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Norah finds herself in the legendary Slytherin Dungeons but don't know where her room is or how to get there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are again;)  
I have a lot of time at the moment so I'll be posting chapters rather frequently but two in one day is not going to happen very often - I just HAD to post one more for some reason<3
> 
> Enjoy!

# Chapter Two

_The Help of a Ribbon_

I watch silently as the gargoyle slides back into place and efficiently hides the entrance to the headmistress’ office. When it stops moving and I’m standing there all alone and without my suitcase for the comfort of something familiar, I feel like time has stopped entirely. Nothing moves except for me, and I could even have fooled myself if I had not forced my feet to move.  
I shudder at the thought and look around, examining the corridor. Everything seems so empty and too large for one person to be standing in alone, but I mustn’t let it get to me. Soon the corridors, hallways, common rooms and classrooms will all be filled with chattering students and laughter. Tomorrow.  
An age span going from 11 to 19 years is amazing considering that the students mingle between each other despite age differences. Or so Bobby told me when I asked him about his years in school. He speaks very warmly about his years here, and so did father. Not that I can remember _what_ he told me about, but I just know he told me whenever I asked.  
The golden ribbon starts squirming in my hand as it tries to point me in the direction of my new dorm… which is where? I stop to think about it and realize what professor Parrish had said right before I left. ‘_Enjoy Hogwarts and enjoy Slytherin_’… The importance of these words sinks in and makes me look back at the gargoyle which is now guarding the staircase.  
_What?_  
Is she allowed to just tell me which House I belong to? What about the whole ceremonial part of it where the Sorting Hat tells me where my heart and mind belong to? Unbe-fucking-lievable.  
I furrow my brows as I weigh my options. I could go up to her again and demand an explanation but that would involve facing her again, which I’m not so interested in. I could also come back later, maybe tomorrow when everything has settled and I’m sure she’ll have more time for me --- no, she’ll probably be just as busy as she is now. She’s the headmistress for God’s sake.  
I glare at the gargoyle, considering trying the password from before, which Bobby had obtained in a letter the day before this, but what would that help if I don’t plan on going up there. And it’s not like I really care about which house I’m in, but I admit to myself that I had really looked forward to the ceremony.  
I pry my gaze away from the statue and look down the hallway to my right and the one to my left. No people in sight whatsoever. I can’t even spot my suitcase anywhere, so Parrish must have been serious when she told me the caretaker had _taken care_ of it.  
I press both heels of my hands into my eyes until I see white sparks dancing around. It wouldn’t had made much sense to let me have a proper sorting ceremony with the other students since the other students would be first years and I’m starting what would be considered my 7th year. I would look ridiculous when they called me up along with all those children. No, this was probably for the better, and who knows? Maybe Parrish has spoken to the Hat? Maybe you don’t even have to put it on your head for it to know where you belong? I rub my eyes in frustration and confusion, trying to stop myself from overthinking and maybe prevent a bad decision or four.  
The golden ribbon gently swirls in the air right in my eyesight as I make my way down yet another empty hallway, passing several doors leading to classrooms and God knows what. Through the large, slightly narrow windows right under the ceiling, I see that the weather has changed again. The comforting rays of the sun has returned, and they shine through the milky glass, lighting up my empty path.  
I passed a teacher on my way here, but he just looked at me with a confused and surprised expression, so I continued walking without stopping. Parrish must have withheld information about my arrival from some teachers, considering the man’s reaction. He looked quite young for a teacher and I kept wondering about his age and profession all the way down to the end of the corridor, where the satin ribbon made me go to the left.  
The dust whirling up from around me, dances in the sunlight. I watch it with amusement.  
“young woman, can I help you with something?” a dry, old male voice sounds from my right. I halt in my steps as I watch an old man, with several books under his arms, closing a door leading into what I assume is a classroom. As he steps out into the light of the corridor, right in the middle of the dancing dust, I notice the titles of one of the book he’s holding. _Puzzling Plants and their Preferences_. “Plants?” I ask without thinking. The man turns around to face me and gives me a warm smile that matches the ray of sunlight beaming down on us. “Herbology, dear. I’m a teacher.” He chuckles and shows me the cover of the book. It looks dusty and old, just like him, but I don’t mind. I reach out and brush the book with a finger and feel the rough, rather dirty leather cover, tracing the letters of _Plants_. “Where are you going, maybe I can be of some help? I can point you in the right direction.” he asks with a friendly gesture towards the bottom of the corridor where I can see several staircases leading up and down. I watch him closely and notice the dirt under his nails, the smudge of mud on his left cheek and nose, and the little twig entangled in his curly brown and grey hair. His beard is just as dirty as the rest of him and I don’t have to inspect his robes to know that they must be dirty too. Herbology teacher, alright. “no that’s okay, professor Parrish gave me this.” I point to the satin ribbon, floating in the air right above us. The teacher gives away a curious grunt (‘_oh_’) as he spots it but doesn’t seem too surprised to see it as if that is normal around here. I’m still not used to the normalcy of magic since father made sure magic was kept to a minimum back at home, and uncle held this request close to heart even after father’s death. I feel my mood darken at the thought of a man I don’t want to think about right now, or ever. The teacher has his focus on me now and is looking at me with a curious stare, but I don’t mind it as I bow my head to him and walk along the corridor, away from him. I don’t look back at the nice old man, but I know he’s still watching me as the ribbon leads me down a spiral staircase.  
At the very bottom of the stairs, I find myself in what looks like the dungeons of Hogwarts, famed for the darkness and moldy kind of smell. At least that’s what Bobby told me one evening.  
I was so sure students entered the dungeons through a door on the right side of the Entry Hall, but it makes sense that you can enter through other doors and stairs. The ribbon leads me further into the dungeon and I feel like it’s going downward even though I’m just walking along one of the corridors. I pass several passageways, doors and stairs but the ribbon doesn’t stop before I’m right in front of a large wall made of large stones in what feels like the absolute end of the whole dungeon, even if I know that can’t be true. There’s no door leading into what must be the Slytherin Dungeon, and I’m feeling utterly stupid standing there, looking expectantly at a wall of stone. I consider touching the largest stone right in front of me, like that might give me access for some reason, but before I touch the undoubtedly cold and wet surface, the ribbon flutters down. It’s stiffens in the air, right above my hand, which I stretch out so I can catch it as it falls. Upon the golden satin of the ribbon, large letters form themselves slowly. One letter at a time as if someone is writing on it with an invisible hand and pen while I watch it with wary eyes. _Alia Iacta Est_, it says at last. Suddenly, the largest stone in the wall, the one I thought of touching, swings out like an open door, as if someone from inside kicked it out of the wall. It looks like a regular wooden door from the inside, but that’s impossible to see from the outside. I realize that I must have said the words out loud, since they seem to have work as a password of some sort. The ribbon becomes lifeless in my hand.  
I look down the spiraling staircase leading even further down under the castle, but I don’t fear it. Beautiful silver lanterns hang from the ceiling above the stairs and seems to illuminate the whole way down. It looks inviting and the lanterns cast a soft sort of white light upon the stone steps, and I feel an urge to see what I’ll find at the very bottom. I stuff the golden ribbon into the back pocket of my jeans, and steps inside. The stone door isn’t that big so I have to bow my head when I step inside, but on the other side, I can stand upright again. The door immediately shuts after me, leaving me alone at the top of the stairs but I don’t think much about it before I take the first few steps down. A smell of wet stone and damp earth hits me, but it’s not unwelcomed at all. I follow the stone steps spiraling down, down, down… and then I reach the Slytherin Dungeon.


	3. The Slytherin Dungeon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back mah dudes!  
Hope you'll enjoy todays chapter:)

# Chapter three

_The Slytherin Dungeon_

“_holy shit_.” I whisper to myself as I take in the room before me. It’s a large rectangular room with a high ceiling and two levels. Broad stairs lead up to a balcony which runs along the interior walls on both the left and the right side. Bookshelves after bookshelves are lining the stonewalls, and up on the balcony, several empty tables and chairs are placed along the railing. The smooth, weathered stone floor of the lower level of the room is covered by many carpets of all sorts of shades of green and silver. I spot other objects and furniture matching the color theme of the rugs. The lanterns have been replaced by silver candelabras with lit candles, which cast a beautiful soft light on the room. Black leather sofas occupy most of the floor space in the lower level, and small black tables have been placed between every three sofas, making small islands of sofas where people can sit and talk. Three lit fireplaces have successfully warmed the large common room up, even though the entire far side of the room is made entirely of glass. The entire wall is just some flimsy glass, which is the only thing between what appears to be the lake outside, and the cozy common room. Not only that, but the water must be freezing at the bottom of the lake so how come the room isn’t frozen over? The stairs had led me to a door opening in the very corner of the room, and I now run from out under the balcony and towards the wall of glass on the other side. I expect to be met with an ice-cold surface but when my hands touch the glass, it just feels lukewarm to the touch. I exhale loudly as I half laugh at my own stupidity. Of course, it’s enchanted, what did I expect? It probably makes sure the room stays isolated from the coolness of the water, and the water from the heat. I stare into the quiet waters of the lake and notices that the slight green color of the lakewater. It casts a tiny hint of green upon every surface of the lower level of the room from what I can see. I’m so fascinated by the beauty of the lake and the room that I almost forget why I came to this beautiful, mystical dungeon. It’s like an old shipwreck. Like an underwater fairytale where the hero gets to breathe underwater and see this beauty. But here I can admire it all I want. This is _my_ common room. This is my new _home_.  
After what must have been quite a while, where I just enjoyed the view the flowing waters outside and the crackling of the fireplace, I find myself walking up some more stairs. I found the stairs on the left side of the balcony where a wall blocks most of the view of a narrow staircase made of dark wood. Something tells me this is the way to the girls’ dorms, but I’m not so sure. Good thing I can always go back down without getting noticed. Quite handy to be alone right now while I explore the dungeon, I think for myself as I admire the tapestry on the walls. Stories of old wizards and witches seem to have been sown into the tapestries, and they are stunning. Old and a bit discolored but _stunning_, nonetheless. So many details, so much to look at but I reach the top of the stairs so quickly that it must have been a rather small staircase. Not that I noticed.  
A long, dark hallway greets me with its many, many doors and dim lighting from greenish lanterns along the walls. The floor as well as the walls are made of dark brown wood, but the ceiling is of stones, much like the floor in the common room. I walk down the endless, narrow hallway and spot tiny white notes that decorate each door, all the way down. On the notes I see a consistency of four names on every slip of paper stuck on the doors, and I immediately start looking for my name. I hadn’t thought they would have a room ready for me yet, but Parrish told me the caretaker had taken my suitcase for me, which suggests that I have a room where he could store it in. There are so many doors in the hallway and my head hurts at the thought of being forced to check every single door until I find my room. I lean against the wooden wall, right next to a suit of armor, which stands proud and tall against the wall. I sigh heavily and considers taking a break. My head is so full of all the things I’ve seen and experienced already, and I’m beginning to be tired of walking around. But I really want to find my room and see where I’ll be sleeping for a whole school year!  
A sudden skirmish in my back pocket makes me yelp as I instantly think I managed to sit myself on something living, but the smooth texture of satin is all my fingers meet when I reach behind to grab whatever it is. I remember the golden ribbon from Parrish and bless her soul as the ribbon flies out of my hands. It rushes towards the staircases where I came from, and I sigh as I think I walked into the wrong dorm, but the ribbon stops midair. One of the very first doors near the stairs seem to be where my room is. I run over to the ribbon and it drops into my hands as soon as I cup them beneath it, and then I turn to the dark door in front of me. Tapestries of green with silver snakes, decorate the walls on each side of the door, but the door itself only has that little note on it. 

_Cynthia Spell, Dorothy Clocks, Morgan Lancaster & Norah Winters_

I read the names repeatedly. I try to say them out loud, but they sound weird. I feel like I’m reading the names of fictional characters out loud; not actual people. I shrug my shoulders and grab the silver door handle.  
The door swings open with minimal effort and I stare into the lake again. The wall on the far side is made entirely of glass, just like in the common room, but here there are windowsills and they are encased with wood as if they were windows. I guess they can be considered windows, but it feels odd to call them that, when you stare into the lake and seeing dancing underwater-plants, swaying in the water, and fish coming out to see what kind of creature you are. The room itself is rectangular and kind of narrow. All beds are old fashioned and has curtains, and they face the windows, where there are separate, cushioned windowsills where it appears to be possible to sit, directly across from the bed. Beside each bed, a large cabinet stands on clawed feet of silver, just like the beds, and the bedframes are made of dark wood, almost black. They match the cabinets and the floor, and the color theme of green and silver is present here as well, as the bedsheets and curtains are a dark green with silver threads decorating the edges with swirls. A large, green, fluffy rug lays between each bed, and this is also with threads of silver in it. I smile as I find the only bed with a suitcase at the foot of it. It’s placed upon the lid of a much larger trunk, which is supposedly for storage, just like the cabinet. I’m bubbling with glee as I place my hand upon the velvety smooth blanket on top of the bedsheets, and I can’t stop myself from letting myself fall face first onto the bed. It’s so, so soft, and I instantly feel like curling up under the covers and sleeping the rest of the day away. The dinner I ate with Bobby before we ran to the car, suddenly seems like a very long time ago but I’m not that hungry. I crawl onto the bed and slip out of my clothes in a matter of a few minutes, sitting almost completely naked in my new room. I love it so much, and even though I feared how it would be to share a room with others, I feel, oddly enough, quite content at the thought of sharing. I wouldn’t mind some company. Maybe they could be possible friends in the future? I gush at the thought of the typical girls’ dorm from movies I’ve seen, where they visit each other’s rooms, share everything and talk about typical girl stuff. I’m not sure if any of those things are something I’d like, but right now, while I’m in this mood, everything would be okay!  
I can’t stop smiling at the thought of getting to know the other girls, starting classes and get a routine going. My suitcase is easy to reach even when I’m on the bed, so I grab it and drag it onto the bedcover. I just sleep in a large grey t-shirt I stole from father’s old cabinet at home, and a small pair of dark blue shorts, which I pull out of the suitcase. I don’t want to unpack my things yet, but I can at least put away the suitcase for now. With my pajamas on and my dark brown hair in a messy ponytail, to keep it out of my face, I jump down from the bed and make my way around the four-poster bed, run my fingers over the heavy green curtains, and glare at the trunk. It’s an old one, used by many, many students before me, but that’s okay. Everything else seems so new and clean (except for the walls and floors of course), so I can’t start complaining over an old trunk. Can I? No. I drag the suitcase back to the lid of the trunk and then heave it onto the floor, where I open it. I mostly brought clothes along with me, so I just grab those in one big ball of clothing, pry the trunk open with my foot, and dump the whole lot into the bottom of it. I don’t care about the mess yet. I’ll deal with it tomorrow. The other things in my suitcase, such as Bobby’s old schoolbooks, required school supplies and a few bags of personal items, I just throw into a drawer hidden inside the cabinet. I slide the empty suitcase under the bed, so it looks nice and neat, even though my clothes are a mess. Not visible, but a mess. I barely get time to admire the bit of work I put into settling myself in my new dorm room, before someone knocks on the door. “Um, come in!” I answer immediately. I don’t even know what to expect, since I haven’t seen that many people today, and I have trouble comprehending what I’m seeing as a house elf steps inside the room. I know of these creatures but have never seen one before. The creature is small with gigantic eyes and ears, a pointy nose, bony arms and fingers far too long for its small body, and a piece of washcloth I wouldn’t dare call clothes. “professor Parrish thought you might need a bit of bread and milk before you go to bed, miss.” Its voice is too high pitched for my liking, but I understand that it’s trying to be nice to me, even if it looks horrendous and smells just as bad. “thank you.” I half whisper, unsure of what to do and what the creature expects of me. It simply nods at my words and then open the door fully to reveal a small cart of food. _A bit of bread and milk_, my ass. Several bowls and plates of different goodies fill out the space on the small cart, and I’m not sure what to do. I’m honestly not hungry but this elf seems to have gone through an awful lot to come from the kitchen and then all the way down here with that little cart. Magic must be involved, somehow. Should I just eat it out of appreciation? A table appears out of thin air as the elf snaps its bony fingers, and then all the bowls fly up onto it and I just sit my ass down on my bed and receive it all. The elf bows elegantly and leaves me be with my confusion. He or she, or whatever it is, closes the door behind itself. What just happened?  
After finishing the bowl of porridge and the one of kale soup, I simply can’t eat anymore. There are still a bowl of some other soup and two plates of several, small sandwiches. I didn’t really need the food but the thought of bringing me some was nice enough to make me eat just a bit. Or two bowls. I finish one of the glasses containing cold milk, and then gently gather all the things I’ve used in a small pile. A nice warm feeling of satisfactions slowly consumes me as I lift the many covers up and happily slides under them. The weight of several soft blankets is comforting and very nice, and I settle myself for the night. I’m sure I’ll fall asleep with a smile on my face, now that I have finally managed to come to Hogwarts after so many years. I deeply inhale, hold my breath and then exhale slowly, while appreciating this very moment. This surreal situation, where I’m not even supposed to be in the first place. But here I am. The comforting smell of the wet stones, damp earth and falling rain, fills me up as I drift away.  
A dreamless sleep overtakes me.


	4. An Eventful Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Norah goes exploring and meets some new faces on the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello! I'm back with another chapter. I know it's a little longer than the others, but I thought it was a fitting length for the things I wanted to be included in todays chapter. Hope you don't mind:)

# Chapter Four

_An Eventful Morning_

Sunlight doesn’t wake me. Not like it usually does. No, I’m awaken by the shimmering light of sunrays managing to reach all the way down to my underwater window. I’m not sure if that’s even possible this far beneath the surface of the lake, but I don’t question it too much. _Magic_.  
I lay completely still as I slowly crack both eyes open, taking in the beauty of the sunspots dancing across every surface in the bedroom. It’s like an underwater dream, a sea of wonders, and I’m truly breathless. I don’t move in fear of breaking the spell.  
It’s September 1st and this day scares the fuck out of me, but it’s a hundred times better than any birthday, any Christmas day, any day at all.   
It used to be the absolute worst day of the whole year. I knew that it was the day Hogwarts opened its doors for all the arriving students. The day when a new school year started. A new school year without me. Yet again.  
But not this time. Not this year because I’m in the legendary Slytherin Dungeon right now.   
A sudden rush of appreciation of my current situation right here in my dorm room, washes over me and I can’t help but smile.   
The smell of wet stones and damp earth is reassuring as it helps me accept that this is real and not my own twisted imagination. I couldn’t have imagined this beautiful place.  
With slow movements, I carefully slide out from under the many covers, and brace myself at the sudden chill of the morning. The green rug with the silver strands is much appreciated as I place my feet on it instead of stepping on the stone floor. It’s not cold but I’ve slept so snug under all those covers, that everything feels cold to the touch.   
A sudden yawn yanks my mouth open and I stretch my arms high into the air, straightening my back and trying to get my body working. The inviting warmth and softness of the bed is very distracting as I make my way around the fourposter bed to find clothes in the large trunk. I pry the lid open and look at the mess from yesterday. Throwing everything together was never a good idea, but never mind that now.   
I reach down to look for some decent looking leggings, one of my black pleated skirts, white underwear and a white shirt. I dress according to the summer uniform and feel damn good in it as I admire myself in my reflection in the window.   
I don’t have anything color themed yet since I didn’t know which house I’d be going to, but I pick up the black school tie with the Hogwarts crest on it, which Bobby gave to me. He told me that he had worn it when he had attended his own Sorting Ceremony many years ago. It’s a bit dusty and looks rather old, and is probably not purchasable anymore, but it serves me well today. I’ll just use it until I get clothes send to me with the colors of Slytherin.   
When I get down in the common room, I’m feeling fresh, well-dressed and clean, thanks to the toilet I found at the end of the hallway in the girls’ dormitory. I had taken my little toilet bag with me to look for somewhere to brush my teeth and brush my hair in front of an actual mirror and had found a pleasant bathroom with lots of toilets and spacious sinks with room to set a bag or two. 

The common room is just as warm and inviting as it was last night, and I see that the fireplaces have been lit yet again. I stand on the balcony, right at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the girls’ dorm, and I just admire the sheer beauty of the room.   
I keep noticing new details and I’m about to explore a lone shelf of several Impossible Bottles containing miniature ships and other objects of maritime art, but something catches my attention far more than decorations.   
“Miss Winters.”   
I abandon the shelf and turn around and walk to the railing of the balcony. From here I can see that someone is sitting in one of the black leather sofas facing the underwater window in all its glory. I hadn’t even thought of the possibility that I might not be alone in the common room, but I don’t mind the company. Especially not when the person down in the sofa appears to be a man wearing a long greenish cloak with a large silver snake down his back. Only the head of the snake is visible but its very clear that this man is representing the Slytherin pride. And as far as I know, no student or teacher from one house is allowed in the common rooms of other houses, so I suppose that means he’s also in Slytherin like me.   
I make my way down the broad staircase, which leads me from the upper level to the lower level of the room. The man doesn’t turn in his seat to greet me as I come nearer, yet I notice that he looks rather slender, and from what I can tell, he isn’t that tall either.   
When I’m almost at his side, I can’t help but admire the fancy fade he has on the sides in his brown buzzcut hair. When we finally face each other, the youthful haircut suddenly makes sense.   
This Slytherin person doesn’t look much older than me but his robes suggest that he’s a teacher since he’s not wearing the required Hogwarts uniform, yet he could pass for a student with those looks. Even though I’m right beside him, he doesn’t even spare me a look but keeps on sipping a hot cup of something.   
“Who are you?” I ask bluntly, which forces him to let go of the cup and look at me, properly. His eyes are a soft sort of grey and his sharp features are quite handsome, but there’s this air about him that makes me want to hold my tongue around him. He looks at me with a calculative look. “I brought you some breakfast since the kitchen folks are too busy preparing tonight’s feast. Hope you like tea.” Despite his sharp looks, his voice has a warm feeling to it and I instantly like this man, but I still want an answer to my question: “are you a teacher?” I ask, hoping for an answer this time.   
His gaze had returned to cup again, but my question makes him look at me again. We stare at each other for several seconds before he answers: “I thought my clothes made that very clear.” Not really a clean answer but I accept it.   
The man eyes the plush, black armchair directly beside me, and I immediately understand his hint. While sitting down I let myself gulp in the sight of breakfast. It looks delicious with a large bowl of scrambled eggs, a platter of small, roasted sausages, a bread roll with some sort of marmalade on, and large cup, presumably filled with tea. A typical breakfast and I instantly welcome the gnawing feeling of hunger in my stomach as I sit.  
I’m not completely sure about the time anymore, but I know that I’m hungry and the food looks good. As I dig in and eat my share of the meal, the man sets aside his cup, of what I assume is tea, and decides to speak. “My name is Thaddeus Hyde and I’m a teacher here.” He looks at me expectantly, but I’m busy eating a roll, so he just continues with slightly furrowed eyebrows. “I teach History of Magic---“, he straightens up in his seat and looks me directly in the eyes as he says, “---and I’m also the Head of the Slytherin House. You will do well to remember me and my name. I may look young due to my youthful looks, but I assure you that I’m without a doubt, older than you and your fellow housemates.”   
He tilts his head slightly as we silently observe each other for a few seconds. Mostly because I’m unsure of how to respond to his statement.  
“I see. My name is---“,  
“yes, I know.”  
“--- Norah Winters.”  
His interruption baffles me, since I hadn’t thought he would be such an impatient and rude person. “Excuse me, why are you here if you already know who I am? I assume that means you’ve been notified of my _circumstances_, no?” I test the waters with a more daring approach since my other questions have been either ignored or answered much later than one would expect.   
Professor Hyde is not sipping tea anymore and is simply staring at me with his grey eyes filled with annoyance, yet also with a hint of curiosity. I reach for the bowl of scrambled eggs while letting the professor take his time to come up with an answer. It takes him nerve-wrackingly long to respond, and as I abandon the empty bowl of eggs and grab the cup of tea, he opens his mouth.  
“I know of your name and I know of your situation, yes.” The man sets down his own cup to place his elbows on his knees and rest his head on top of his folded hands. He looks as if he’s studying an experiment gone wrong while he tries to figure out what he could possibly have done wrong in the process. It unnerves me greatly, yet I pretend to be just as curious about him as he is with me.  
“What I don’t know is how you’ve come to be. In all my research of the great old times of magic, nothing quite like you has ever existed. I know that times are changing fast, but your existence doesn’t make sense.” He sighs deeply and leans back in his seat with exhaustion. “I’m here because I care about all the students of Slytherin and I’m here to protect you from them---“, he looks at me with a dangerous sort of hint to his features, “--- and them from you.”  
I sink my shoulders at this statement. He’s right, I could become a great threat, but I’m pretty sure that I’d do more damage to myself rather than other students. He’ll understand that when he sees my magic. “I understand, professor.”  
He gives me a sympathetic smile which lightens the mood instantly, yet he doesn’t seem like he’s done talking.  
“I want you to know that I’m here for you. If anything happens, both good and bad, I want you to come to me. I’ll support you in any way that I can. Do you understand, miss Winters?”  
I’m getting tired of hearing him talk as if I’m such a wounded person, but I know he has to give me this talk, and I also appreciate it. Now I know of someone in the school who can help me. That’s really reassuring.   
My eyes drift towards the beautiful view of the lake outside, and I let myself sink into a feeling of appreciation. This man seems honest about wanting to help me, and I should remember that well.  
“I do. Thank you, professor.” I say to him, even though I’m not facing him anymore. The crackling sound of the lit fireplace few meters from me, is more tempting to listen to, compared to him. But I don’t tell him that.  
Professor Hyde stands up and walks around the sofa while I’m looking out the window. He doesn’t seem too bothered by the fact that I don’t want to listen to him anymore, and he just parts ways with me for the time being, with a simple: “stay out of trouble, I don’t want to start working just yet.”   
And then he’s gone.

Hunger doesn’t gnaw at my stomach anymore as I’m walking up the stairs leading to the dungeon where I came from last night. The silver lanterns still cast a soft white light on the stone steps, and I quite like it. It’s a very subtle sort of light. I’m met with a small and dark oaken door at the very top of the staircase, and as soon as I push just a little bit, it swings open with much ease. The corridor I step out into has a much moldier smell, like the cellar of an old house, and I don’t particularly like it. The Slytherin Dungeon smells much more inviting than this.  
The torches here cast a yellow light that moves across the surfaces around it as the fire flickers and dances, which makes the dungeon look much more edgy.   
I want to get out into the more open rooms of the castle, and I start making my way opposite of the hidden door to Slytherin. I hear a sort of click as the massive stone slides back into place and conceals the opening completely.

The way out was much easier to find than what I had feared. Walking around on my own in a large labyrinth of corridors and hallways, didn’t sound like a good idea, but what choice did I have?   
I’m now standing in in the corner of the large entrance hall, where the stairs I had followed led me to.  
Everything is much more illuminated here, and the ceiling is so far up that I have trouble seeing where all the light comes from. The hall is mostly empty apart from a few teachers making their ways to separate locations, up and down the marble staircase opposite of the large oaken doors. I try to walk by unnoticed, but they all seem to spot me as I quietly walk across the hall, towards what seems to be the Great Hall. None of the teachers approach me and I don’t mind that at all.  
The Great Hall is also a large room but all the floorspace is occupied by four long tables. This room is bursting with a sensation of magic as it is lit by thousands and thousands of candles floating in the air. The light from the candles makes the golden plates and goblets glitter and as I watch the dots of light, they sprinkle across the room, I notice that the ceiling is gone.   
I’m met with the beautiful sight of a blue sky with small fluffy clouds. It takes me a moment to think it through before I jump to a conclusion, but I end up convincing myself that the ceiling must me enchanted. The Great Hall can’t possibly just open up into to the sky.  
I walk further into the room and realize that quite a lot of teachers are present by the High Table, in the front of the hall. I freeze as they all seem to stare at me with either confusion or interest. There must be at least twelve staff members here, and I don’t like the intense attention I’m getting.  
None of them seem like they’re in a hurry to continue the conversation I clearly interrupted between all twelve, and they don’t seem like they’re about to stop staring.   
My cheeks heat up and I don’t know what to do with myself.  
“Ah, miss Winters! Thank you for coming as I asked.” A hoarse, old voice suddenly exclaims and the dusty old man from the day before starts walking towards me. This seems to make the other teachers fall back into the conversation from where they left off, and I’m grateful for the breathing space I’m suddenly given. I watch to the friendly man wobble his way towards me. He must be old and he’s still looking just as dirty as before. But nevertheless, I still greet him with a small smile. “thank you for the help, professor.”  
When he gets close enough, he smiles broadly at me before continuing past me. “yes yes, now come along, dear.” I do as he says and follows close behind as he guides me all the way up the marble stairs, through a door wouldn’t have noticed, down some stairs and then to an open-roofed wing of the castle. He opens the door for me, and I gratefully step out into the open air.   
A strong smell of flowers and earth hits me as I see several greenhouses nestled side by side in the open wing. The morning sun licks my face and I feel so much more refreshed now that I’ve taken in some fresh air.   
I turn to look at the professor who stares adoringly at the greenhouses. “what a beauty, eh?” he muses mostly to himself and walks over to one of the middle ones. He takes out a wand from an inner pocket in his robes and tabs the heavy rusty lock hanging from the door. It clicks open with ease and we step inside the immense heat of the greenhouse.   
Everything smells so strongly in here and I shudder at the beauty of all the exotic plants I’ve never seen in my entire life before this very moment. Some look like regular flowers and plants but with unusual colors, and some look like nothing at all.   
The professor just walks in without telling me to come along, which gives me the space to really look at everything in here. The warmth seeps into my body and I feel like the leggings I decided to wear today were a bad choice. I’m gently stroking a leaf with fur when a cough catches my attention. I turn to see that the professor is standing with a pair of well-worn dragonhide gloves. “If you don’t know what to use your day for until the Express arrives tonight, then I’d appreciate a little helping hand with some things in here.” He smiles at me and throws the gloves on the table in the middle of the greenhouse, before I get to answer.   
He doesn’t need an answer because I’m already taking on the gloves as he turns around with a large plant in a tiny pot. It obviously needs to be repotted and I gladly accept the plant in my arms. The old professor chuckles.  
“Thank you, dear. I have quite a few plants that have been growing faster than what I expected, and I need them to be ready for my lessons tomorrow, so if you’d please help me with that, I’d be very grateful.” I nod and he takes that as enough of an answer. I don’t know why I have trouble expressing myself, but it’s nice that he doesn’t press me to speak some more.   
While he’s rummaging through some boxes for bigger pots, I realize that I don’t know what to call him yet. “excuse me, professor. I don’t know your name.” I say more like a statement than a question, but he doesn’t seem bothered by that.   
“Ah, yes. I forgot to tell you. My name is Neville Longbottom.”


	5. Professor Longbottom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Norah and Neville enjoy some time together, and things take a sudden turn in the wrong direction as Norah tries to use her magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!  
Sorry for the late update - I've been quite busy, but here is the fifth chapter of my story:)

# Chapter Five

_Professor Longbottom_

Oh, so this dusty, old man is the rumored professor Longbottom?  
The elderly man on the opposite side of the table doesn’t seem as legendary as the books describe him to be. The brave friend of Harry Potter is currently piling pots of several sizes on the dirty floor while humming a little melody.  
“professor Longbottom?”  
He doesn’t answer immediately and keeps his head in the wooden box he’s rummaging through. When he heaves several large pots up onto the sturdy table and sighs with exhaustion, he finally looks at me. “yes, dear?” he asks with a soft voice and looks at me with those kind, brown eyes.  
It takes me a moment to remember what I intended to ask him. I want to ask him loads of questions about the Second Wizarding War, about Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort, and I realize that none of my thousand questions are very appropriate to ask him right now. He must have endured many curious students like me in his time as a teacher, I imagine.  
My hunger for knowledge about his experiences and adventures with magic seems insatiable, but I turn it down a few nudges and think of something else to ask or say. Something appropriate and fitting. Something harmless and innocent.  
“I have never done gardening before. How do I do it?”  
My cheeks flush at my own statement. It’s embarrassing to admit that I’ve never handled plants of any sort in my whole life before, but it’s the truth.  
I must seem like a spoiled child in his eyes, but the professor simply smiles even broader than before and walks around the table with one of the funny colored plants in his hands. “ah, yes. No worries---”, he puts the plant down in front of me and grabs a larger pot from across the table, “--- let me show you how to handle this particular plant.”  
Professor Longbottom proceeds to show me how to fill the bottom of the pot with an appropriate soil mix, which he made himself, and then prepare the plant by lifting it out of the previous pot and remove dead, wounded and fragile roots. The prepared plant is then placed in the center of the new pot, which we fill to the top with more soil.  
After having been instructed on how to repot the specific plant with the polka dotted leaves in several, beautiful shades of purple, the professor lets me do the dotted plants by myself while he works on all the other plants.  
We mostly work in silence, but sometimes I ask him something related to the greenhouse or the repotting, and he too asks me how it’s going with my side of the table. 

At one point, my stomach growls and I realize that I’ve lost track of time. I was so happy to be useful to someone, or just to do something with my hands, while I wait for the evening to come, that I let myself get consumed by the task at hand. Professor Longbottom’s smile never fades as we work the hours away, and I enjoy his silent company. Never once do I ask him about his past.  
“must be time for some late lunch!” professor Longbottom exclaims loudly, just as I’m lifting a plant out of its tiny pot. I almost drop it in surprise of the sudden noise, since it’s been so quiet most of the time, but I steady myself and look at him. He’s gazing curiously at me and his kind face makes me nervous. I focus on the plant in my hands.  
“would you fancy eating lunch here or would you rather eat it somewhere else?” he’s already taking off his dragonhide gloves and I’m still repotting. As I’m quite occupied with repotting the dotted plant exactly like he told me to, and not messing up in any way as I proceed, I forget to answer him.  
He comes around the corner of the table in a slow, carful pace.  
“or… perhaps you’d prefer to eat in your own or somebody else’s company, miss Winters?” he asks with such a gentle voice it makes me whip my head around and exclaim: “N-No, I want to eat with you, professor!” My voice cracks a little, and I blush at my own bold outburst, but it’s true. I don’t want to eat alone in this giant castle where I know no one except snappy professor Hyde, from this morning, and the headmistress. I doubt professor Parrish would spare me the time, and I’m not really interested in eating with her, if I’m allowed to have a say in this.  
Professor Longbottom doesn’t answer but simply chuckles with his hoarse, soft voice, and I quickly finish what I’m doing and discard the gloves on the table next to his. “where do we eat?”  
He’s already making his way to the giant sliding door of glass, which leads outside, and I simply follow him out into the large, open wing. “I thought we could enjoy some lunch in my office, if you don’t mind the company of old books and an old man, of course.” I smile as a response to his last comment as we make our way around one of the nearby greenhouses. We reach a wooden double-door leading into what must be the backroom of a greenhouse, and we enter.  
It doesn’t look like the typical office one would expect from a teacher. But this is a teacher at Hogwarts. Words like _‘typical’_ are rarely used, I imagine.  
I step into a square room overfilled with plants and books. There’s a small desk against one of the walls, where a large pile of parchment is sprawled upon, with a fragile chair far too wobbly looking to be used anymore. Many bookshelves occupy the rest of the walls except for one large window at the far end of the room, where a large and untidy bed has been placed right under it.  
Professor Longbottom walks over to the wobbly chair and drags it out from under the desk. He gestures for me to sit.  
I look at the fragile chair with distaste, but do as I’m told and sit myself on the chair. It turns out to be surprisingly sturdy and quite comfortable, much to my surprise.  
“I’ll be back in a minute or two, dear.”  
Without much explanation, the professor simply leaves his office.  
I look around curiously at all the surfaces which could have been usable storage place for books and parchment, but the professor seems to have occupied everything with plants of all sorts, which explains the large piles of books and parchment on his desk and on the floor. Warmth seeps into me as I sit there in the middle of the greenhouse-office. The smell of plants, earth and humidity surrounds me.  
I quite enjoy the slow rustling of the slightly moving and shifting plants all around me.  
I’m happy to be away from curious gazes from teachers and staff members, and I appreciate the big help professor Longbottom has been already. He could probably see my discomfort with the whole attention in the Great Hall and then gave me an excuse to get away with ease. He even offered me something to do while I wait impatiently for the evening to come.  
I don’t wander around the room, and I still sit on the fragile looking chair, as the professor enters the office a bit later. He carries two plates of food, one in each hand, and behind him floats another fragile looking chair.  
As he walks over to me, I reach out to help him with one of the plates. Professor Longbottom gently puts one of them into my outstretched hands, and then sits himself in front of me on the other chair, which had placed itself behind him. We’re a few feet apart with no table between, so we both put the silver plates on the desk beside us.  
“I took the liberty of getting a few different ones, in case you’re vegetarian or something else, so help yourself but don’t eat it all if you’re not that hungry. I deliberately got us too many.” The professor digs in while I look at the plate of sandwiches, which he brought us. I’m quite hungry and these sandwiches look amazing, no matter the content. I grab one of the big ones, which looks like it’s with salmon, and take a big bite. We both devour several sandwiches before we speak again.  
“how do you like Hogwarts so far, miss Winters?” the professor is lazily sipping some of the tea he conveniently had by his side as soon as he swung his wand effortlessly. I put down the cup, which he had offered me after we finished eating, and give him a small smile. “It’s better than what I had dared hope for. It’s simply magical.” It feels a bit embarrassing to admit out loud, but professor Longbottom doesn’t seem to mind at all. He simply nods and sips again.  
“Hogwarts is indeed a beautiful place. How do you like your house so far? Slytherin, was it?” he looks at me with a curiosity that unnerves me a little. If I remember correctly, this man is a Gryffindor which means he knows nothing of Slytherin Dungeon’s underwater, fairytale-like beauty.  
I inhale deeply before I venture into a long description of how beautiful the place is, without telling him where the dungeon is located, since that seems to be a secret between houses.  
Professor Longbottom lets me take my time as I explain and describe everything that I’ve seen, heard, smelled and tasted, and when I can’t find any more to say, he leans back in his chair and looks at me with kind eyes.  
“that does sound like an underwater fairytale. I wish I could see it one day, but that would break one of the oldest traditions around here.” He sighs deeply and seems lost in thought. I reach for my abandoned cup of tea, which has gone quite lukewarm in the meantime. Cold or lukewarm tea doesn’t taste as good as hot tea. Maybe I can do something about it?  
While holding both hands around the large cup, I think of something warm. Fire burning and forever crackling like it does in the Slytherin fireplaces. The reassuring warmth of the greenhouse seeping into my bones...

The cup explodes in my hands.

Bubbling, boiling hot water bursts out of the large cup and burns the exposed skin on my arms and hands. It all happens so fast, and the itchy pain on my chin, nose and cheek, tells me that I also got boiling hot tea in the face. I don’t realize that I’ve let go of the cup before I hear something smash and boiling water splashes over my feet. I’m wearing Converse, which protects me very little against the water, and my throat tells me that I must be screaming. I’m standing up and so is the professor. Within seconds, I go from burning all over, to feeling rather cold to the bone.  
A blanket is now covering my shivering body, and I’m sitting on the bed, I assume.  
“let me see that.” The professor says with a gentle yet stern voice, and I let him take my hands in his. The skin looks angry and red, but it doesn’t hurt anymore. Professor Longbottom has pulled out a leaf from one of the nearby plants and is now smearing some sort of leaf-liquid on top of the angry skin. It feels nice and cool.  
“what happened?”  
“I just---”  
I don’t know what happened.  
“--- I was thinking of my cold tea and that I like warm tea better. I thought of something warm like fire, and then--.” I don’t know how to finish the sentence.  
Professor Longbottom doesn’t smile at me anymore, and his eyes are swimming with concern. He’s still holding my pale hands in his bigger and callused ones, while kneeling in front of me. The liquid has already dried on my skin, leaving a cooling feeling behind, but he doesn’t look like he’s going to let me go just yet.  
He reaches for something in his pockets and takes out a white piece of cloth. It doesn’t really surprise me when he gently presses it against my nose, which appears to be bleeding.  
The professor mumbles to himself as he guides one of my hands to the cloth, where I press against my own nose. He then raises himself from his kneeling position with slight difficulty, yet he doesn’t seem to notice this. The high temperature and all of the smells in the room suddenly feel suffocating as I sit there on the professor’s bed with slightly burned hands and a bleeding nose.  
I don’t understand much of his very incomprehensible mumbling but I do hear the word _‘Athenietta’_ and something about _‘warning’_ and _‘truly astonished’_. I get the gist of it and it sours my mood greatly. Fantastic. Whoever this Athenietta person is, it seems like she warned him about me and like he hadn’t thought it would happen.  
I suddenly feel like a fucking animal.  
Professor Longbottom is probably not even this nice. He probably just wanted to see what a freak show I’d put on. To get an exclusive close-up on the phenomena that I seem to be.  
The professor seems like he’s about to kneel in front of me again and maybe tell me something reassuring, but I instantly stand up and let the stained cloth fall to the ground. He looks alarmingly confused as I clench my hands in frustration and run out of the office. I don’t look back as I find the door we came through and run for the Slytherin Dungeon, many corridors away.


	6. A Scolding with a Twist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Norah is handed her ass, fed some good ol' guilt and also given a helping hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah so, I'm going on vacation for a couple of days (about two weeks), so the next chapter will probably be pretty delayed compared to some of the other chapters...  
Hope you enjoy today's chapter:)

# Chapter Six

_A Scolding with a Twist_

The people-free, underwater common room had managed to sooth my frustrations instantly.  
I’m sprawled across one of the nice and cool leather sofas, and nothing but the fire cracking in the several fireplaces, disturbs the silence.  
The dungeon has already become a safe place for me. It’s probably just because it’s away from prying eyes and judgmental gazes, but I hope it’s because of the homey feeling. It might even feel more like home when the other students arrive.

_Ugh._

The thought of all the students that will be joining me in this serene place, makes my head burn with anxiety. What if it’s too much? What if I’m too used to being alone?  
The steady ticking from the nearest grandfather clock suddenly irritates me quite a lot. For each tick, my mood spirals downwards.

_Ugh._

I don’t like having too much time alone where I can play around with my rather negative or even destructive thoughts.  
With the bottom part of my hands pressed to my eyelids, I groan loudly.  
I want something to happen. Something I need to say, think or hear, but I’m not sure what it is.  
I keep applying pressure to my eyes and try to let myself get swept along with all these colors and patterns that form in darkness. They emerge slowly at first, but then they wash over me with weird and interesting shapes and figures. It’s odd to watch, yet also kind of beautiful, but my eyeballs start to hurt because of the added pressure. I remove my hands again and throw one of them over the back of the sofa.  
I’m pretty sure the professor didn’t mean any harm with his obvious curiosity right after the incident. That doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt, but it makes me hope that he didn’t fake his kindness.  
I don’t like being treated like an animal, and his reaction and severe facial expression made me slightly afraid of myself and what I’m clearly capable of. Bobby told me to keep my emotions in check, since my magic appears most unstable when I’m feeling something particularly strongly.  
I was beginning to really appreciate his company, though…  
No one likes being looked at like that. I certainly don’t. The way wizards and witches look at me when they learn the truth, is quite unsettling.  
Their eyes… it makes me feel like a circus animal, and all I want is to go to school. To be a student in Hogwarts. Nothing more, nothing less.  
Okay, maybe less of an oddity.  
Not that I’ve experienced many of these situations where people see me for what I am, since Bobby and dad kept me away from the daylight. Hence my lack of social skills.  
The sacrifices I made on the way are all worth it, since I’m finally here…  
_Tick, tick, tick, tick._  
There are large, round clocks on the walls above each fireplace, and the time tells me I’ve been sprawling around on the sofa a bit too long. A whole hour has passed while I was drowning myself in self-pity.  
Distant thuds makes it sound like someone is making their way down the entry-staircase, leading into the common room. I cover my face with one of the soft pillows from the armchair behind me and try my best to ignore the person. No matter the person.  
Maybe they won’t notice me if I lay completely still?  
“miss Winters.”  
I recognize his voice. It’s the Head of Slytherin, professor Hyde, from this morning. I don’t want to talk to him. Literally, the last thing he told me, was to stay out of trouble. I did wonderfully.  
I’m lying down on the sofa, which hopefully makes me quite hard to spot from where he’s standing, but I still have a hand resting over the back of it.  
I remove it very slowly…  
“I can see your hand.”

Well, _shit._

“what do you want?” I ask bluntly, not feeling in the mood to talk with anyone right now. My voice is muffled quite a bit by the pillow on my face, but I don’t care. He should be able to hear me.  
Professor Hyde sounds like he’s making his way over to my hideout and I groan loudly in defeat. He doesn’t stop his dramatic, loud steps as he walks across the common room to the largest sofa facing the windows. Sounds like he’s wearing boots with heels. _Fancy.___  
“I just talked with professor Longbottom, who was pacing back and forth in the Entry Hall. He was quite distressed and told me about your little escapade in his office involving some spilled tea.” The professor doesn’t sound pleased and puts pressure on the word tea as if that makes his point come across clearer.  
He sounds like a parent slowly leading up to the point of a story, where he gets to scold the child about its bad behavior. It makes me press the pillow further into my face in denial of it all. I can’t believe I already managed to make this man stop his preparations for tonight’s feast and come all the way down here to scold me for doing the only thing he told me _not_ to.  
He’s pausing in his little story, which I don’t want to hear the end of. I remove the pillow and look him in the eyes.  
Professor Hyde is standing behind the sofa and slightly leaning over the back of it, to better look at me. His voice is harsh and scolding, but his eyes seems sort of soft. I feel my throat thicken.  
“we’re not your enemies, miss Winters. Certainly not old professor Longbottom.”  
I frown at his statement and pretend like those words doesn’t make me feel like absolute shit.  
“_I know_ you’re not-- I just…”, I sit up straight and face him better, “-- this is just as new for me as it is for all of you. I have trouble handling the way everyone seems to look at me. It’s nerve-wrecking and makes me uncomfortable.” I leave out the part about my lack of social skills, my several anxieties and everything else that makes me uncomfortable.  
Professor Hyde looks at me with a puzzled look and straightens his back, and I pretend that I suddenly spot something very interesting out in the lake. Oh, look at that color. Is that a fish? What a beautiful view…  
I can feel how his gaze lingers on me for a few seconds, but I keep my eyes on the window.  
The silence is killing me, even if I usually appreciate a bit of silence, and I have trouble finding any more to say. I just shut my mouth until he opens his and takes the lead of the conversation again. He doesn’t seem to mind my silence, though, and I obviously don’t mind his either.  
A cough from Hyde makes me face him again, and our eyes lock together as he speaks with too much caution in his rather stern voice: “try not to let this get in your way of your goal, but you have to get used to the attention. You’ll most likely never get away from curious people and prying eyes. If you wish to attend this schoolyear, you’ll need to face it.”  
I swing both legs over the edge of the sofa and plant my bare feet on the cold floor. My socks and shoes lay abandoned on the floor over by the stairs.  
Professor Hyde is still facing the enormous window and doesn’t see me crumble.  
With both elbows on the knees, I rest my face in my hands as I try to control the shivers raking my body.  
I knew that wishing for a normal schoolyear would be dangerous considering my circumstances, but hearing somebody saying my thoughts out loud, hurts much more than I expected. 

_ _No tears fall but I feel like crying a river._ _

__ “But after that being said--”, the professor sounds like he’s walking around the sofa where I’m sitting, but he doesn’t sit down like one would expect, “-- keeping a low profile should be possible."  
A short, mocking laugh escapes my lips, and I lift my head to look at him. “like I haven’t already thought of that.”  
It’s like he doesn’t even hear my sarcastic tone. Professor Hyde simply sits himself in the armchair on the opposite side of the coffee table, so that he’s facing me. I expect to see the same seriousness in his face as his voice suggests, but Hyde is looking at me with a glint in his eyes.  
“professor Longbottom told me how you explained what had happened and what had gone through your mind when it happened, and it sounds to me like this is something you’re able to control with a bit of training.” My confusion must be very visible on my face since he coughs and awkwardly adds: “or a bit more than a _bit._”  
Jerk. “you don’t understand. My magic seems to work differently from yours. I think; it happens. How is that ever going to be possible to control?”  
He continues as if I hadn’t said anything at all: “you said you had thought of something warm as you held the cup of tea, correct? So, this might be a matter of training your ways of _thinking._” He looks at me triumphantly, like he just cracked a difficult case, yet I’m baffled.  
“like I just said, how can you train your--”  
“miss Winters, what if you could learn to control your thoughts, and in the end control your powers so that you can avoid situations like the one you experienced today?”  
“you’ve lost me. I feel like we’re going in circles. Are you repeating yourself?”  
Professor Hyde’s serious enthusiasm unnerves me. “I believe I might be able to help you, if you’d let me try. Keeping your powers in check would help you keeping a low profile in school. This way we’ll also be able to keep you safe, along with everybody else who might get exposed to your powers.”  
It all sounds too good to be true and quite unrealistic. I can’t possibly see how this plan would ever work but I appreciate the help he’s offering me. Despite his unnerving way of offering it.  
I shake my head in frustration. “I guess we can give it a try, if you really think you can help me.”  
The young teacher looks at me with an unusual glee, and I immediately regret my approval of his so-called _training._  
Professor Hyde quickly stands up and uses a hand to reach inside his cloak, where he seems to be rummaging through a hidden chest pocket. “I’ll contact you when I’ve found a place where we can train. I think we should start as quickly as possible, so you can learn to control your powers within this upcoming term--“, Hyde pulls out a light brown, slightly crooked stick with a twisted, thicker handle which has been cut so it looks like it’s spiraling downwards, “-- don’t you think, miss Winters?” Professor Hyde hands the stick to me.  
I gasp and cover my mouth with a shaking hand, involuntarily.  
My gaze jumps from the wand in my hand to the man facing me with an uncharacteristic smile. It’s a tight, uncomfortable smile, but it’s still a smile. Smiling doesn’t strike me as something Hyde would normally do, and I would have made mental notes about the sight, but the beautiful stick in my hand takes up all my focus now.  
The light brown color is beautiful against my pale skin. I slide a finger across the surface and feels a sort of roughness to the texture. I always expected these to be rather smooth to the touch, but this one isn’t. I quite like it.  
“Is this for me?” My very own wand?  
I’m studying the beautiful wand in my hands as Hyde clears his throat and speaks up: “yes, this is for you to use during lessons.”  
I find myself standing up with the wand fitting perfectly in my hand as I’m holding it out from my body to get a better view of it. Hyde lets me be as I’m examining the bit of wood, but when I turn to thank him, his stiff smile has gone.  
“now, don’t let it get to your head, miss Winters. This is not a real wand.” 

_ _What.  
_What?_ _ _

__

The professor must be sensing my change of mood as he quickly adds: “I brought it along with me in case you were willing to abide by my plan. It seems like you don’t need a wand, but I want you to pretend that you do. With this pretend-wand.” His stern voice from earlier is back, and I frown my eyebrows in thought. Couldn’t he had said so right away instead of letting me believe that I was really allowed a wand? His smile and the way he gave it to me made it seem so real. What a heartbreaker, this man.  
The _stick_ has lost all my interest in an instant, and I toss it onto the sofa in disapproval. I don’t think when I do this, but I shouldn’t have. Professor Hyde’s mood sours accordingly. I don’t lose the frown, but I don’t say anything either. Picking up the stick again seems stupid so I don’t.  
“I know this isn’t as fun for you as you might have imagined, but this is all I can do for you for now. It’s too dangerous for you to be walking around with a wand that works. What if you accidentally swing it while thinking of something? Maybe it would enhance whatever you wish for and thereby making you an even greater threat? I **cannot** risk letting a walking timebomb loose amongst the students.”  
Oh, how I wish I hadn’t challenged this man’s patience. He’s not very pleasant when he’s angry. And neither am I.  
We’re staring at each other with a clear distaste, and I don’t hear the mean things he’s saying about me. Not that they’re lies. Everything he says are facts, even quite reasonable ones, but that doesn’t help to make it pleasant to be told that you’re considered a threat. A threat to the students is an overstatement, if someone asks me - but they don’t.  
I collect myself and straighten my back to help straightening my thoughts. He’s right. I can’t let my emotions run with me like this. In the great spirit of Hogwarts and all it stands for; I’d like to thank my dad for making me such an emotional wreck. Amen.  
My head is slowly getting all mushy and sensitive as a response to his aggressiveness, and I’m letting my dad inside my head again. That can only make me even more dangerous and unstable.  
“that does make sense.”  
These four words seem to surprise him, but he doesn’t show that willingly. I even surprise myself with my calm voice and peculiar choice of words. Since I feel like trembling and all, I thought my voice would crack if I dared to speak again, but I’m pretty damn cool.  
I notice the way professor Hyde leans his head back slightly, as if assessing me from a new angle.  
“yes it does.” He’s resting on every word and quite effectively gets his point across. He was right and I was wrong. He’s a teacher and I’m a student. Ergo: _listen to your elders._  
“thank you for bringing this to me and for offering to train me. I appreciate it.” I press the words through my teeth, and I think he catches on to my not very concealed emotions.  
I don’t want to talk with him anymore. I admitted who won and who lost, and he’s still just standing there with an unreadable expression.  
My mood is simply spiraling downwards, and I feel my head getting filled with all sorts of thoughts. The false hope, which had filled me as I held the pretend-wand, really hits me. I don’t want to accidentally start a fire or make the armchairs float around because of my bad temper.  
Nausea swells in my throat and clenches my stomach. What if I made the magical glass in the windows leak water into the common room because of my temper? What if I accidentally wished to hurt the professor? What if some-- 

_ _“**Norah.**”_ _

__ I instantly zoom in on professor Hyde at the mention of my name, and realizes that I have done it again.  
Just as I had thought; armchairs swirl around in the air right under the roof, the fire in the fireplaces are crackling wildly and acting strangely intense, and then I notice the large window behind Hyde. It looks like someone smashed a very hard ball into the very middle of it. Cracks are slowly crawling out and spreading across the glass.  
Shivers rake my whole body and I look helplessly at the professor, wordlessly pleading him to make it stop. The wild fire is crawling out onto nearby carpets, the heavy sofas are trying to raise themselves to join their fellow armchairs under the roof, and the window is groaning louder than my thoughts, but none of it seems to stop. It’s overwhelming.  
“w-what--” I can’t find the words, and I feel the pricks in my eyes telling me that tears are on their way. I feel so pathetic.  
My knees give away under me as I’m feeling the common room collapse around me. Hard stone meets my skin, but I barely notice the sharp pain shooting up my legs from my bare knees when they hit solid floor.  
“this is worse than what I had imagined, but we’ll surely get this under control, miss Winters.”  
And then with a few swings with a black wand, that suddenly appears in his hand, professor Hyde seems to make it all stop. Within a matter of seconds, he made it all go away. Such wonderful magic. I hear him mutter _reparo_ as he points towards the window-cracks, but I don’t hear the rest. I just concentrate on getting my heart to stop beating so fast, and to clear my head even just a teensy bit. 

_ _I’m such a mess._ _


End file.
